


Dancing with heathens

by AnnaCipactli12



Series: Broken Angels [2]
Category: Reign (TV), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Drama, Family Angst, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Loss, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaCipactli12/pseuds/AnnaCipactli12
Summary: This is an immediate sequel to Angel of Wales (I suggest you read that first). Henry IX is King of England and instead of enjoying his crown, he reflects on the events that brought him here. Do not expect a story of sorrow being replaced with happiness, and everyone coming together at the end. If you want something that ends with a 'happily ever after' I suggest you read something else. This story is a tragedy.





	1. Starting at the Middle: The Dreams in which I am dying

This story starts at the middle. It is a weird place to start but if you allow me, you will see why in the end. As previously mentioned, this is not a story where the underdog gets to live happily ever after in the end. This is a tale where there is grief at the beginning and grief at the end. If that is too much for you, then I suggest you read something else because what you are about to read is nothing short of a tragedy. If you have chosen to stay, let us begin with our tale:

**~o~**

Sometimes I dream that I go back in time and make things better. Sometimes I wake up and find that it was all a lie. My mother used to say that things are easy to understand. Men who pretend to be smart love to make things seem complicated so nobody can challenge them. My father on the other hand said that I shouldn’t have to follow her advice, especially when she was a two-time whore.

His words. Not mine. On the day I discovered the truth about my parentage, I asked my father what it meant. He grabbed me by my collar and in front of my mother’s best friend, told me “You know exactly what it means. Your bastard mother fooled around with her cousin’s ambassador and had you and her.” I turned to the direction his finger pointed at. My little sister, Lizzie. I always loved to call her my half-sister. It wasn’t to make her feel bad or anything of the sort. On the contrary, it was to prove a point to my full brother, Philip. -That blood isn’t thicker than water and family is more than who you are related to.

But, the joke was on me. Turns out Lizzie was my full sister and Phil my half-brother. “That explains a lot.” I said, attempting to joke -like I used to when my mother was around, to get out of being grounded- but my father didn’t find it funny. He pushed me to the ground then made me get up. “Whose son are you?” He asked me.

“I am your son, daddy. I’m your son.” I told him repeatedly but he wouldn’t listen. He dropped me again, only this time he forced me up by pulling on my hair. “Daddy!” I pleaded with him to no avail.

My sister looked at me. I could see what was going through her head. Joy, sadness and now fear. Joy -because now it all made sense. We had one more thing that we could relate to. Sadness and fear because she knew that Philip of Bavaria would kill me if he had the chance.

“Don’t be afraid. I will protect you.” She mouthed. I nodded at her then looked at my father’s eyes. I hoped that if I could get to him, he’d be reminded that I was his son. That whatever Susan White was saying, was nothing compared to our bond.

But again, I was proven wrong.

Philip of Bavaria forced Susan to tell me the truth. When she finished speaking, my father let me go. I couldn’t bear to stare at my mother -my filthy mother- portrait anymore. That bitch! That whore! -I screamed mentally.

 _She never loved you, Harry. You were a nuisance to her._ I was. To her, I was the Duke’s son. A bastard she had to pass up as her husband's son. A mistake. I could hear Philip’s laughter.

“I knew you were born of common clay. I guess I have to call you bastard now.” I covered my ears, but I didn’t dare speak up. Me, the person who always spoke up against idiots, was now cowering in fear. “Bastard! Bastard! Henry the bastard!”

“Shut up! Phil, that is enough. You will go to your room and swear before everything that is holy not to speak of this again.” Philip of Bavaria told his eldest son.

“But father, you just heard Susan. He is not my real brother. I am glad that the truth’s come out, Harry. You have and always been a pest. No wonder mother didn’t want to take you.”

“Phil, that is enough! You will go to your room and make that oath or I swear you won’t get nothing from me when I die.” Philip of Bavaria’s word was final.

I didn’t hear when my brother left -or half-brother I should say- but he must have left in a hurry because I heard his door being slammed shut seconds later.

My sister knelt next to me. Petting my head. She was four years younger than me, and yet she was so maternal -more than Kitty who behaved more like my big sister. Certainly more than aunt Elizabeth who, despite trying so hard to be my mom- it just didn’t feel the same.  
She whispered in my ear, telling me that everything was going to be alright. She then sang to me and called me her little angels.

I don’t remember much after that. Susan left, back to her mistress whore and her bastard lover. Phil swore he’d never mention it again but as usual he didn’t keep his promise. As for Lizzie and me, we remained close until my brother became King of England. When Philip died, it was the happiest day in my life.

Sure, I pretended to mourn him. Did the whole grief display in front of angry crowds, granted a pardon to his plain Jane of a wife, widow Dudley, and offered her a place in my wife’s household. Once I was crowned though, the mourning period ceased, and I was finally able to enjoy my time with my wife.

I wasn’t the youngest King of England ever to be crowned, but I was one of the youngest and like my ill-fated great-uncle, people feared that I would be easily deceived.

Nobody truly knew me except Lizzie, and my wives -and even they abandoned me.

I guess this is how stories always start. By waking one day and realizing that you have nothing to show for yourself except blackness. Pure blackness. “I am soulless.” I whisper, tearing my gaze away from the window and then sitting on my desk.

What am I waiting for? I ask myself. Salvation? I will never get that. That much is clear to me. Retribution? For what? Everything I did has earned me nothing but hatred. People cheer me on the streets of London, farmers see me as I am some kind of God, but my nobles are terrified of me, and my fellow Christian monarchs are no help, especially Philip of Spain.

I am going to die lonely and with nobody by my side -unlike her. I think bitterly. God, how I wish she was here to ask her why didn’t she love me? Why did she always choose Philip, Lizzie, Isabella and Christoph, aunt Elizabeth, everyone except me? What did I do that made her hate me so much?

Maybe I am a mistake. Maybe I did ruin her life, but how could she have laid the blame solely on me when I always defended her? When my grandfather wanted to kill her, I stuck by her and pleaded with him. I nearly died. I got a cold and asked my governess to write a letter for me and give it to him, and tell him how much it would mean for me if he saved her.

“I should have let her rot in the Tower of London.” I say to myself. There were many times when I thought she was dead and I prayed to God that I would die too so we’d be together again. But then I thought about my sister and what she would suffer at Philip of Bavaria and Phil’s hands if I left her.

Tears almost escape my eyes as I think of the horrible ordeal I went because of my parentage when Phil was King. King Philip I, a most honorable King, he called himself. I laugh as I remember the day he unveiled his new title. What a joke! It wasn’t even a day after Wyatt revolted that he came to Hatfield, where Mary and I were staying, as honored guests of my aunt and had me arrested.

My aunt protested. As Marques in her own right, of Pembroke no less, she had the right to have as many guests as she wanted in her house. My brother’s counter argument was, “Not if they conspired against me. Careful aunt, I am your King. My uncle might have tolerated your silly excuses, I assure you, I won’t. So why don’t you do us all a favor and go back to your shit-home to your two-faced husband before I do like Henry VIII did to your mother and cut off your pretty little head.”  
My aunt wasn’t intimidated. She was emboldened and so was I. There was no trial. I was released from the tower because of the lack of evidence. Mary noticed how I came out a new man. When my aunt asked me what went on there, I told her nothing out of the ordinary. To this day, she doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t have to but she can’t know what went on there. Nobody can.  
The only person that knew that -and that was only because Phil forced her to watch- was Mary. The daughter of my governess, lady Kathryn Parr and Sir Thomas Seymour, the two of us had been together since she was born. She was almost the same age as Lizzie. She and I shared all our secrets. After her mother died and her father was executed, she was sent to live with the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, Catherine Willoughby. I begged my father to tell my uncle to send her to us. The Dowager Duchess had a lot of problems of her own and her expenses weren’t enough to look after Mary, so Edward VI agreed to his request.  
I smile as I think right after she became twelve, how she found me hiding in my aunt’s gardens at Windsor Palace. She tackled me to the ground and screamed. “Got you again.” It didn’t matter that I was two years older and taller than her and let her tackle me on purpose. She was just so happy to be on top of me and I was happy as well, that I could make her smile. That night she visited my chambers. Before a golden cross that sat on my drawer, we pledged ourselves to one another.  
It didn’t take long for Phil to find out. When he put me in the Tower of London, he brought Mary Seymour in and forced her to watch.  
She embraced me afterwards and told me that it didn’t matter. That she’d still marry me and that I would get through this.

I wish I could have been honest at the time and told her what I have come to learn the hard way -that some things can never be overcome.

The imperial ambassador’s ghost still hangs around. He and my eldest daughter Vicky, have become good friends. I have been replaced in her heart by him. Nothing hurts more than seeing a man who thinks so lowly of me become my firstborn’s surrogate father.

Eustace Chapuys has become the bane of my existence. Every time I look at him, I am reminded of the years I suffered because of him and my whorish mother. I always dreamed of being hugged the way her best friend said she dreamed of hugging my sister Lizzie, and how she described her when she was around her other bastards. But more than anything, I wished to see her so I could beg her to love me.

 _You are never going to have their love. Your mother abandoned you because she didn’t care for you. Your sister married the King of Spain just to spite you and your daughter showed her true colors when she chose her grandfather over you._ No, that is not true! I refuse to believe it.

_You know it is true, Henry. Why else would your current wife distance herself from you? And Lettice Knollys. Poor Lettice. She’s your aunt’s pawn as much as Cecil, yet you still let her into your bed because you wanted to forget the inevitable truth that no one can ever love you._

It is true. My subconscious is right. Lettice never loved me. My aunt Elizabeth and her husband Robert Dudley along with Cecil and the rest, saw her as a useful pawn in their game to drive me away from Catherine. Catherine of Braganza is my second wife, wife of the late Duke of Guimares and at the time of our marriage, heir to the Portuguese throne. Her claim is certainly stronger than my cousin’s, Philip of Spain. But because she was married to me, an English King and a Protestant no less, she was replaced by that Spaniard.

Catherine never blamed me for it. She was a strong woman who was also in love with me as I was with her. Every time we were together, we felt whole. She was conscious of her duty as well and wasted no time to re-organize the Queen’s household and change the colors her ladies would wear. When our first set of twins were born, people celebrated in the streets for days. **_“At last we have a Prince of Wales!”_**  
We named our son William after William the conqueror. His twin sister was named Virginia, after the Virgin Mary -something that made many of my nobles unhappy. They thought that I was coming under the influence of a dreadful papist. A smear campaign was started, calling my wife a witch and a Jezebel, but it didn’t have any effect. Catherine and I continued to share a bed and a year after William and Virginia came into this world, we welcome our last set of twins, Theresa and Eleanor.  
Upon seeing Theresa, I was surprised -and pleased- to see how strong she was. When I burst into the birthing chamber -despite cries of protest from the midwives- I chortled as I saw one of my wife’s ladies struggling to keep Theresa under control.  
“Give her to me,” I said to her. When she was placed in my arms, her first instinct was to wrestle with my thumb. “This one is going to make Kings cry!” Everyone laughed, including Catherine who told me she had named her after the first Portuguese Queen Regnant. Then I turned my head to the babe in her arms.

I close my eyes as I force myself to recall that moment because it was that moment, seeing my youngest daughter for the first time, that brought me back into Cecil and his faction’s clutches.

She was just a baby of course. You might be wondering, what harm can a baby do? But it wasn’t what she could do, it was what she did when I gazed down at her. I nearly dropped Theresa. I gave her back to the head midwife who put her in the cradle.  
“Say hello to your father, Eleanor.” Catherine said. Sweet Catherine couldn’t see the obvious until she saw my face, and when I pointed to the portrait behind me. After her initial shock, she put a hand above mine and told me to hold her. Her eyes were begging me to make peace with that woman. But I could not. I would be a hypocrite if I said that I didn’t feel any hatred when I looked at my daughter’s face and thought of her. Those emotions however, disappeared when Eleanor opened her eyes and looked at me. It was as if she sensed I was displeased. She got closer to her mother’s bosom and began to whimper.

Three years after that, I started sleeping with Lettice. My wife’s late husband had not been faithful to her so she knew what to expect when she married me, but this was too much for her. We grew apart and as a consequence, she also distanced herself from Eleanor.

I make no excuses for my behavior. But if there is a thing I can say in my defense, is that whatever things I did, however horrible these were, I did it to protect my family. I married my two youngest daughters to great allies, because England needs allies and because I want to ensure a peaceful transition of power when my ungrateful son inherits the throne. Eleanor can fear me all she wants, but I married her to someone who worships the ground she walks on. Someone who has never cheated on her, and who’s a better man than I can ever hope to be. And by the looks of it, when I was staring at her, her husband, and Catherine, the two of them are very happy.  
Then there is Theresa. Nothing felt better than seeing the face of that sniveling, self-righteous cow, Mary Stuart, when I visited her at Shrewsbury’s home and told her that her son would marry my daughter. Theresa was there as well. Disguised as my servant, she revealed herself when Mary Stuart said that she’d rather die than see a bastard’s daughter married to a prince of the blood. Mary Stuart was used at playing the victim. She was a true charmer, so you can imagine her dismay when Theresa humiliated her in front of her two remaining ladies.  
I have never been prouder, except when Victoria speaks in front of large crowds, seeing Theresa show the former Queen of Scots what Tudors were made of.  
She still writes to me. She tells me to be strong, that she loves me, that she misses me and her mother and wishes that things could be back to the way things were between us. I tell her that I wish things could go back to the way things were too, but what mattered to me the most was securing my offspring’s future.

I feel a cold wind. That can only mean that my father is here. I don’t care anymore. He can insult me all he wants. Eustace Chapuys is my true father but he was never there for me. He didn’t save me from Philip of Bavaria or my half-brother’s cruelty. I did that myself.

I hear heavy, hurried footsteps and angry muttering and I sigh. I know at once who is coming and I hope that whatever it is that William wants to tell me, it will be over soon, so I can have some much needed peace of mind.


	2. The Hunters and the Hunted

**1575**

**Henry IX (I)**

Henry was furious things weren’t going the way he wanted them to go. Christoph Chapuys wasn’t making things better. Ever since he got here, the Northern faction had become emboldened. The former Queen of Scots felt like it was the right time to stir her countrymen into revolting against the rightful regime.

God, how he hated that insufferable, self-righteous bitch. Her half-brother was no better. James Stewart, 1st Earl of Moray, loved to think of himself as a do-gooder but he was just as ugly as the rest.

When he came to England requesting to be named the child’s regent, Henry XI granted him audience with the condition that he agreed to send his own men to oversee his nephew’s education. Needless to say, James protested but his arguments soon fell apart when Henry reminded him that without England’s support, his sister would have been dead, poisoned or raped by Knox’s followers, and he would have had nothing to show for himself except another pregnant whore.

James and his wife hated him. It was no secret that he had eyed his sister, the Countess Dowager of Hudson who lived in their mother’s old home. James requested parliament for her hand in marriage and sent an annulment request to Scotland but both courts denied his requests. No one in their good mind would allow a bastard to marry another bastard, especially one who had no love for the King of England.

And Lizzie was too close to his daughter that once she took her husband’s place, she might influence her.

He came back to the present when he turned his back to the window and saw his daughter Theresa holding the new doll he’d gotten her. “Mi princesita. Are you having fun with your new doll?”

“Yes, daddy. Nor wanted to rip apart and blame me but I told her I wouldn’t let her. If she does that, you’ll punish her, right?”

“I would definitely say something.” He said then added upon seeing her disappointment, “You can’t blame your sister for all she does. It’s in her nature.” She can’t help it, is what he meant to say. She is just like her no-good grandmother.

“I know, daddy. But she is so mean. She calls me horse-faced and says I am ugly and that the only reason people love me is because I am your daughter. Even mama can’t stand her.”

“Now you are being too cruel. Your mother loves all her children. Nor is just difficult, that is all. She will get better when she is older.”

“No, she won’t. All she does is cry and whine to Will how horrible I am. She is a pussy.”

“Theresa! Where did you hear that word?” Theresa always spouted outrageous stuff, but not as outrageous as this. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

She smiled at him innocently. “No one.” She said then added seeing he didn’t believe her, “I overheard it from one of your guards when I was chasing my cat. It’s not my fault they have mouths.”

“You should know better than to parrot what the common folk say.”

“But I am right, aren’t I? Nor is a big, stupid pussy, who loves to cry so she can get William’s attention.”

“Theresa, it doesn’t matter. You can’t go running around saying these things. It’s not proper.”

“Since when should I care for what is proper? You told me that Tudors were a mystery even to ourselves and that is what made us better fighters than all the rest.”

“Stronger, not louder. Louder would be the Stuarts. You don’t want to be like the skippy queen, do you?” Theresa shook her head vigorously. “Then I suggest you go to your room and pray that your tongue be cleansed.”

“I will daddy but only after we go hunting.” Theresa proposed going to his desk where her hat rested and putting it on. “How do I look?”

“You look marvelous, my daughter. Like a hunting Queen.” He said, recalling how one of the Scots who betrayed Mary Stuart, called his daughter when he saw her pony outran her cousins and siblings, including Vicky’s old horse.

“Good, then let’s go hunting then.”

Such a daughter. It was a pity that she and his eldest had been born girls instead of boys. He’d feel much safer with them being his heirs than William.

* * *

**Catherine (I)**

“Virginia, tune your harp dear.”

“Yes, lady mother.”

Catherine felt proud of her eldest daughter. She wasn’t brash like Victoria, wild like Theresa or whiny like her youngest sister, Eleanor. She was just perfect.

Catherine talked to Henry about one of her friends in Portugal. He relayed to Rosa the latest gossip. The Queen Regent and Governor of France’s cousin was available and rumor had it, he was very handsome to behold. Henry wasn’t too receptive. “If he is so handsome, why is he being kept in a cage like he’s an animal?” She didn’t need to be given double-talk. She wasn’t a fool. She understood what he meant. But unlike what his golden strumpet and his aunt whispered in his ear, not all the Italian families were sexual degenerates.  
She wanted what was best for her daughter. If she couldn’t get her to marry a Prince, then a ruling Duke would be a triumph. Anything but a royal heretic.

“My lady.” Catherine turned to her best friend, Rosa. “Yes?”  
“The Countess Dowager of Hudson is outside. She says she wishes to speak with you.”

“Let her come in. I want her to hear one of Virginia’s new songs. Play the Rose’s new petals, mi vida.”

“Yes, lady mother.” Virginia said. Her voice was like music. Her hair was blond, her eyes were big, her face heart-shaped like hers but her eyes were the same as her father’s, light blue.

People were angry when she stuck to her guns and convinced her husband to christen her with the name, Virginia. If she couldn’t be public about her faith, then at least she’d have a reminder of it through her offspring.

She greeted her sister-in-law, the alluring Elizabeth FitzTudor who waved at her niece as she prepared to entertain her aunt. Blond like her brother, her hair wasn’t light blond like Catherine’s. It was dark, but not too dark to be brown. Her eyes were also light blue, and her face oval. Some whispered that she took after her ancestor, Elizabeth Woodville. There were some similarities but whereas Elizabeth Woodville was said to be affable and pious, Elizabeth FitzTudor was direct and non-observant.  
Yet, the two sisters got along just fine. Catherine enjoyed hearing to the latest gossip and Lizzie enjoyed hearing Catherine and Virginia sing for her.

“She’s a natural. She should be the star of the pageantry. Have you decided what you’re going to wear, yet?”

“Not yet. The pageant won’t be for another man. I have enough time to decide until then.”

“Not enough.” Lizzie said.

“Excuse me?” One of the things that Catherine loved from Lizzie was that she was sharp. She didn’t mince her words like most of the hypocrites at court, but sometimes it got annoying. “I hardly think, that one month is too short of time. I don’t like to rush things and these things never go as planned.”

“This is different. The King wants this alliance so bad and so does Walsingham. It’s the first time that I’ve seen Walsingham and Cecil go at it. Paul told me all about it.” Paul was her youngest son, a dutiful youth who was sadly mocked by his mother. “Poor Paul, he didn’t know what to do. England’s greatest spy -I laughed at him- is at odds with me. Come and help, mommy. Ugh, he was such a cry baby. But his point still stands. Henry wants this to happen and with a strong ally like Walsingham, Cecil is bound to nod his head like the obedient dog he is and agree that is the best thing for England.”

“Are you sure we are talking about the same Cecil?” Catherine asked, pouring more tea into her cup. It was one of the few things that people attributed and loved her for. It was much cleaner and healthier than that horrible thing called ‘ale’.

“People think they’ve figured Cecil out but the man might as well have the surname Tudor because he can’t figure out himself. Thing is though, he is easy to figure out. You just have to follow the money. As soon as Philip gives my brother a big dowry, he’ll be the first one to salivate like a cocker Spaniel and lick the Spaniards’ boots, telling my brother how good they are and how he’s seen the light of God or some other flimsy excuse he can come up with. And I am certain he can.”

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Come on, Cat, you know better than to throw your bible lecture at me. I am beyond salvation.” Lizzie said, quoting what her brother and his new whore said to her last week.

“Nobody is beyond redemption. Lettice Knollys is a stuck up who wouldn’t know good from evil even if God and the Devil were to appear in front of her.” The Queen said, saying Lettice’s name like it was venom. “I hope that you are right about Cecil. This cold war has gone on long enough. I don’t want more men to die because of me.”

Lizzie got closer to her sister, and placed her hand on her shoulder, covered in Spanish bumrolls. She was one of the few women at court who dressed in Spanish fashions. Her husband’s aunt dressed in Spanish fashions too, but nobody said a word about it because she was everyone’s darling.

“Henry knew the risks when he married you and so did you. If he didn’t want any risks, he would have opted for someone else. He married you because he fell in love with you.”

Catherine scoffed. “That might have been true, once.” She said then moved her gaze to her daughter who was tuning her harp. She waited for her mother to give her the signal to start. Catherine finally gave it to her. “Now, I am not so sure.”

Lizzie said nothing. The two women turned their attention to Princess Virginia who began to sing her favorite song, entertaining her aunt and mother.

* * *

**The Spanish Ambassador (I)**

There were many things that irked Christoph Chapuys. Being called a bastard was not one of them. He was a bastard but unlike most bastards in Europe, he’d been legitimized in a court of Antwerp. Legally, he was as trueborn as the King of England and any of these stuck up royals.

His wife was with child by the time he had been given his assignment. She insisted on coming because that was the right thing to do. Christoph didn’t disagree with her. He would’ve lost the argument. She had a way of getting what she wanted, and what was worse. Before his mother died, she’d often get indulged by her. Amabilia Francatelli, was a woman who loved to shop and keep her house neat.

She donned on her ‘boring’ clothes and put on extravagant ones when she felt the need to impress his father’s guests. His wife and her got along just fine. Bianca loved to joke with her, his sister Isabella, at the men’s expense. When his father and him would ask them what they were whispering about, they’d chuckle. His mother got off the hook easily because his father adored her.

Bianca inherited most of her mother’s dresses. People also made fun of her. “Two bastards, one born of a whore-monger and another one of a disgraced nun.” Bunch of idiots, Christoph would say. Bianca however, took it personal. She challenged the ladies of the court to say it to her face. The ones who did, ended up crying after Bianca would tell them something that insulted their sensibilities.

Their only child, Giovanna, loved to play hide and seek with the King’s daughter, Princess Theresa. Something the King didn’t like but couldn’t avoid since the Princess did what she liked.

Christoph didn’t spend as much time as he liked with his family. When he did, he took advantage of those little moments, by indulging his wife and daughter. The only person he missed was his sister. If he was indulgent, Isabella was over-indulgent. With two sons of her own, she loved devoting herself to children. She spent times in hospitals and other religious charities, teaching her children the value of helping those less fortunate.

It disgusted him seeing his _sister_ Elizabeth FitzTudor waste away. She didn’t miss a chance to humiliate him, point out that he was made of common clay.

He passed the courtiers who smiled sardonically at him, nodding as they passed him by. Christoph nodded back. He reached the King’s chamber. Instead of finding the King, he found his mistress, Lettice, who told him he was out hunting with his daughter, the Princess Theresa.

Christoph returned to his chambers. His wife was playing with Giovanna. “Where is Tessy? She told me she would play soldier with me.”

“Theresa is out playing hunter with her father. I am sorry, sweetheart.”

Giovanna told him she didn’t mind. She had absolute confidence in her friend. After she went to her room to play alone, Christoph turned to Bianca. “Why am I here? Why are you even here? I should have stayed in France.”

“And risk being at the mercy of that necrophiliac and his crazier mother. No thanks! You’ve heard what happened to her eldest daughter. She killed her.”

“Those are rumors spread by the King and his Protestant court. Catherine de Medici is many things but a kin-slayer she is not. She loves her children.”

“Of course she does, but do they love her back? Didn’t think so. Elizabeth Valois was going to spill her guts to your master. Catherine couldn’t have that, so she made it look like it was childbed fever.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Christoph insisted.

“How do you know? Were you there? Oh, that’s right. You weren’t Chris. I was lucky to convince you to take the King’s offer and move to England where we wouldn’t have to deal with that level of madness.”

“Yes, now we are in a new mad court with a new mad king.”

“Do not exaggerate. Committing adultery hardly classifies as being mad.”

“It should.” Christoph said. His father had never cheated on his mother and the two weren’t even married.

Bianca wrapped her arms around his waist. “You judge too quick, Chris. Give these people a chance. They might surprise you.”

If only that were true. Since when had something good come out of royalty? Right after his mother died, his father would look at a miniature he made of her and whisper “this isn’t the life you wanted but I did my best to give it to you” then finish by kissing and whispering her real name.

Christoph wished for a quick death so he didn’t have to see his father turn into an old fool. The great Eustace Chapuys was a legend and he deserved to be remembered as such. He breathed a sigh of relief when he died, still sound of mind. Christoph and Isabella made arrangements, burying the two of them in their family chapel in Annency, Savoy.

Isabella visited them daily for the first two years, taking care of their state but after her husband died, she moved back to Antwerp.

Isabella still maintained that the states were well taken care of. Christoph believed her but he wished he could visit, just to be sure.

“Take a look at my mother. She was knocked over by some horny priest who made a bet with your master’s brother over who’d get to corrupt the sexy nun.”

“It’s knocked up. The phrase is knocked up, honey.”

“Who gives a shit what the phrase is? The point is, my father won a bet. He was made Archdeacon and confessor to Margaret of Parma after he got into the wanton nun’s bed and what did my mother get? Me and a whole lot of disgrace.”

“And your point is?”

“Royals think this is all a game. If you want results, act like you are part of their game. Pretend you are having fun, over indulge him if you must. Indulge her for starters.”

Christoph looked at her like she had gone crazy. “You can’t be serious. That whore has done nothing but undermine my credibility ever since I got here.”

“Lower your voice dear, I don’t want our daughter getting her bad manners from you.” His wife was right. They had a hard time trying to convince Giovanna not to imitate her wild friend.

“She hangs with that she-wolf and you worry about bad language?”

“Not some. A lot. If we want her to become a lady, we should start by acting proper in front of her.” Bianca said and seeing his lips move, she added, “You hate Elizabeth FitzTudor because she doesn’t treat you like her brother but answer me this, would you treat someone like you, someone who reminds him of the mother who abandoned her in this god-forsaken land, fair?”

“Our mother had no choice. She spent her last years crying, telling my father how she wished she would’ve had the guts to give Master Kingston both of them so she wouldn’t have to suffer.”

“Cock and bull story and you know it. Your mother could have make up some excuse. She was talented at lying, she was your father’s best student. Nobody wanted to deal with her bastards. If she said she lost the child and couldn’t bear to look at it so she tossed its remains to the fire, I guarantee you, nobody would have dug deeper into it.”

“The Lord Protector would. At the time he was just Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford. He was the one behind my mother’s demise. Before his demise, he had his wife look over Elizabeth. Anne Stanhope and her grew close. It didn’t take long after King Philip died, for people to gossip that the Duchess taught her everything she knew. I am glad my mother isn’t here.” Christoph said. He was sure his mother would be heartbroken, seeing what her daughter had become.

“You are still going around in circles, Chris. That isn’t all your mother said. I was there, taking care of her along with her nurses when she begged your father to make peace with the two of them.”

“My mother was dying. She didn’t know what she was saying.”

“She did and so did your father. Deep down, your father also spoke about your brother. About leaving the two of them behind. It’s a pity you are not trying harder. If not for them, at least for yourself. The King of Spain will reward you handsomely after you secure this alliance. Just imagine. A title, lands and a big dowry for our little one.”

Christoph grinned. The truth was finally out. His wife, a plain speaking woman, was as ambitious as him. The two were equally matched. Whereas she stayed home and paid her servants to report back on what they heard from other servants who served Henry IX’s inner circle, he bought the women they slept with. His first priority was to ensure that the treaty would be signed and for that he’d have to get to Lord Burghley and the King’s aunt, Lady Pembroke and Leicester. People feared Elizabeth Tudor. Foreign envoys were quick to seek her favor. Not him though. Not at first. His first instinct told him to play hard to get. She was a woman who loved playing the role of Diana, the huntress. And like all Tudor women, she loved praises. So Christoph would occasionally praise her to her friends, knowing that they’d go and report back to her.  
The fact that Christoph was married didn’t bother Elizabeth Tudor in the least. It made the hunt more challenging and she was determined to get him on his knees and beg for her support like one of her lapdogs. She wouldn’t get that far. He’d give her the one thing that she hadn’t gotten from other ambassadors: respect. Not bought or feigned, but true respect. And his wife would do her part too, Christoph was sure of that, by playing the ailing and jealous wife.

“My dearest love, if I didn’t know you better I would think you a royal yourself.”

“Good thing I am not, then.” Bianca said. Her lips drew into a smile. Her eyes had the glint of conspiracy and at once, Christoph knew that the two of them were on the same page. If it was a show these royals wanted, it was a show they’d get.

* * *

**Lizzie (I)**

Feuds are never about pain. Feuds are about hatred. Plain and simple. Her aunt loved to make things complicated despite her phrases being so simple. Lizzie knew her better than her own children. Her aunt loved to trick people, turn them against each other for amusement and whenever someone refused, she’d claim that it was because of childhood trauma.

Lizzie scoffed as she remembered how her eldest son, begged auntie Elizabeth’s forgiveness. It was so funny. Like a scene taken from a fable. Except in this tale, the evil queen’s vanity won over her prey’s naivety. Named after her darling brother, Harry was always looking for auntie Elizabeth’s approval, given how close she was to his uncle.  
People scorned her for not being motherly to her offspring. Harry and Paul were the light of her world -so she said when they were born. As soon as her husband died, she couldn’t wait to see their backs. She felt freer than she’d ever been.

The only reason why she married Henry Carey was because of her aunt. She promised her that he’d make her very happy. The first night certainly seemed like he would. He didn’t let anyone be present for the bedding ceremony. He wanted it to be something private and special. The following nights though, were the start of her nightmare.  
Henry Carey refused to let her go anywhere. Every time she flirted with courtiers, to make them feel at home, or engaged in gossip with their wives, he would punish her.

She couldn’t bare looking at Harry or Paul without feeling revulsion. None of them looked like her. They had inherited their father’s looks, including the way they smiled or how their mouths twisted when they were angry. _Especially Harry._ Making fun of his infatuation with her niece, Princess Victoria, was one of her favorite activities.

“Don’t you know boy? She is a Princess and what are you but a simple nobleman? What makes you think that my brother will agree to marry her to you over the king of Spain?” Harry exploded. Knowing nothing else but to make a mess of things, he ran back to auntie Elizabeth. Her auntie chided her and told her she shouldn’t have been so blunt. Her auntie had come to accept that she’d never be close to her sons, but still tried because Henry Carey had been her cousin and a good friend to her.

She envied her niece. It was terrible to feel this way when Victoria was nothing but good, but she couldn’t help it. Her niece was going to get the chance of a lifetime and become Queen of Spain, one of the most powerful women in the world. And she would still be stuck here, living off the King’s charity.

She sighed. She looked at her reflection. She had used magic to ensnare many young boys. They were eager to have some of the royal jelly. Afterwards, they’d forget about her, save for a few. Those were the ones that always came back. Ambassadors wrote back to their masters, praising the King and Queen’s hospitality, their offspring’ beauty as well as hers. They pointed out how much she took after her ancestor, the infamous Elizabeth Woodville.

There were similarities. She had her yellow hair, porcelain skin, and rosy lips but unlike her brown eyes, her eyes were clear blue like her father. It was the signature look of nearly all of Mary Tudor’s children and their descendants. The one thing she regretted.

Cleaning her face and applying one of her creams, she imagined the King of Spain, tall and proud, taking off his hat and taking Vicky to dance before he swore everlasting love. How romantic. She wished she could be in her niece’s place. Nothing would make her happy than be the center of attention and ruling over a vast kingdom, vaster than her brother’s, and being remembered through her princely offspring.

She closed her eyes and briefly let herself go before someone knocked on the door. It was one of her servants who came to tell her that her new gown had arrived. Elizabeth told the girl to put it on the bed then dismissed her.

It wasn’t as impressive as the gown Victoria would wear to impress Philip II, but it was better than the ones the other English roses would wear. She let her hair loose and got out of her dress. She loved to sleep in the nude.

Before she lay down, she thought about Christoph Chapuys and giggled. The Spanish Ambassador was an idiot, just like his father and just like him, he thought he could get through to her by appealing to his higher standards. Didn’t he know who she was? What people whispered behind her back. She did not have one drop of sympathy for her parents. In fact, when Henry told her that the old man died, right after his whore did, she celebrated.  
“What’s the occasion?” Her attendants asked. She said there was no particular reason, she just felt like celebrating. Christoph Chapuys was furious of course but what could he do? Whine about it to his baseborn wife who’d no doubt whine back to his sister? Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. The whole Chapuys clan were the reason why people hated foreigners, especially those who descended from meddlesome pests.  
There were some who admired his old man and spoke highly of him. “Such a man like him will never be seen.” Christoph intended to live up to his master and his late father’s friends’ expectations by keeping tabs on everyone, including her. But he soon found out that in the game of politics, he was still an amateur.

Still, it was a good fantasy. Thinking of Christoph and her brother’s faces when they found out that the royal bastard had charmed her way into the mighty king of Spain’s bed.

* * *

**Half-Sisters (I)**

Victoria painted her sister’s favorite doll. Theresa had messed with her twin’s toys again and slashed the lower part of the dress. The doll was a combination of porcelain and metal. An odd combination but one that the youngest of her sisters insisted on after Theresa was given more dolls than her.  
As soon as one of her father’s yeomen gave it to her, Theresa became jealous and demanded one too. Virginia tried to calm her down, reminding her that she had more toys, but trying to calm Theresa was like trying to stop the sun from getting.  
Like a wolf, Theresa howled and howled until she got her mother’s attention and she agreed to order a new doll for her. But Theresa wouldn’t wait, so she took her twin’s doll and tore through her dress and drew horrible things on her face.

Eleanor was so distraught. She cried for days. When their father wouldn’t see her, she burst into his chambers and begged him to do something. Their father was a good man. When Vicky’s mother lived, he was always there for her. Things changed after he married his second wife, the Duchess of Braganza and Guimares.

Victoria loathed her. Things got easier when her siblings were born. Her father tried his best to make the two of them grow close, but it was a pointless endeavor. The two of them had nothing in common, except that they were distantly related. Catherine had convinced her father to take down her mother’s portrait and replace them with her own. Every time she bought a new dress or ordered a new headdress, Catherine intrusively told her ‘this is not right’ and how ‘better’ she’d looked if she dressed more ‘appropriately.’ Honestly, the woman was insufferable. Just because she was her stepmother, didn’t make her, her mother.

But her children on the other hand, were a delight to be around. Even Theresa when she was on one of her bad moods.

She put down her paint set. She searched through her old dresses for materials she could use to sew a new dress. She found what she was looking for in that dress she wore when she was five. It stirred a lot of memories. Like Theresa and Eleanor and their older siblings, William and Virginia, she was a twin too. Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t lucky as Catherine. After she gave birth to her first set of twins, she became ill. A year later, she was fine. Up and walking again, charming courtiers and envoys alike. But for everything, there was a price and the price for her recovery was her youngest daughter’s. As she got better, her sister got sicker until one day she stopped breathing.  
Her father was devastated. Vicky’s governess told her that for many years, Vicky would reach out to her sister. “You two were incredibly close.” It was strange. Vicky didn’t remember her. Unlike her half-siblings who were different, she and her twin were one and the same.  
Her mother tried to give her father more children but after it became evident that she couldn’t, her father told her that he was happy with just having Vicky. But her mother wasn’t convinced. Something had changed in her husband and she was determined to get him back, no matter what the cost. Vicky remembered how her mother would try and teach Vicky about the ‘old ways’, or what some in France called ‘the craft’. In the dark forests of France, pagans were said to still worship the old gods and make sacrifices in their gods’ names. Mary Seymour sympathized with them. Vicky asked her how she could sympathize with a group of savages. Her mother answered her by telling her the lesser known history about her ancestor, Elizabeth Woodville, and the legend that said that she descended from the water goddess Melusina.  
“One day, you will come to appreciate your gifts too.”  
Her mother was delirious. Vicky had no gifts. She wasn’t magically gifted like her mother or these so called pagans in France. If the legends about Elizabeth Woodville were true, it didn’t make any difference. She was ordinary, plain and simple.

She smiled. She had accomplished her goal. The doll looked even better than when Eleanor had received it. Looking at her pet, Cassandra, she whispered in her ear. Cassie rushed through her doors, knowing where her mistress wanted her to go. Seconds later, she came back with her little sister.

“My doll!” Nor screamed. “It’s wonderful. Thank you, Vicky! It looks new. I love the dress.”

“I knew you’d like it.” Vicky said. Nor hugged her, firmly holding her doll in her left hand. “Now promise me, you will keep it safe and not show it off to your sister, agreed?”

Nor nodded. She sat on the carpeted floor and began playing with Cassie. She was careful not to let Cassie lick on the new paint so she wouldn’t get sick.

Vicky joined her, giving life to one of her old dolls. After they were done, Nor thanked her again then left to her chambers. Theresa hadn’t arrived yet. She pretended to be her doll’s dancing partner. She took out one of her other dolls, giving both of them life before she heard Theresa’s footsteps and she put them back in their place. The old doll in her top drawer and the new one in her bottom drawer.

Theresa bragged about how mommy had taught her new prayers and daddy took her out hunting because William proved to be too weak.

Nor felt sorry for her big brother. He wasn’t weak. He was big and beautiful. Besides Vicky, William was always there for her, humoring her and giving her bouquet of flowers. Though they were only a year apart, she always saw him as someone older. He certainly appeared older in the way he walked and talked. Only six, he was one of the smartest pupils in his class. Last week he had shown her a new dance move he learned and whispered in her ear “in ten years, you will be married and everyone will smile at you.”

She doubted it. But it was nice to hear someone tell her she was beautiful.

“You would have loved it. There was this boar who didn’t want to let itself be caught so daddy told his men to guide us deep into the forest. I helped the trackers find it. Daddy says I am a natural.”

“I am glad to hear that, Theresa.” Nor said, hoping that her sister wouldn’t be too graphic. She always hated the sight of blood. Whenever she heard of animals being mistreated, she cried.

“Next time, you should join us. I know! It can be during our birthday. We can name the boar Eleanor Mary after you.”

“My name is not Mary.”

“I know, silly. But you look so much like our grandmother that it only makes sense we name the wild pig that. After all, both of you love to squeal when in danger.”

Nor turned her back at Theresa so her twin wouldn’t see her cry. Theresa thought herself as beautiful but she was ugly. She looked like a horse. William said so himself. Nobody in their right mind would ever want to marry someone like her. But Nor was the one who got all the bad press because she happened to take after her grandmother.  
More than just take -She had her hair, albeit lighter, her skin, face, everything except her eyes which were the same color as her daddy’s. When she turned four, Nor took up a knife and intended to scar her face. Just a little, so her parents, especially her daddy, wouldn’t be mad but she was discovered by Vicky who told her to accept herself.

It was a lame way of saying ‘love yourself no matter what’. Nor didn’t love herself. She lived for the approval of others. If people thought she was doing great, she felt great. If they thought she was beautiful, she thought she was beautiful and if they said they loved her, she felt complete.

Invaded by Theresa’s taunts, after the two girls called on their servants to undress them and help them in their night clothes, Nor closed her eyes and dreamt. None of them noticed a shadowy figure lingering outside their doorway. That figure belonged to another time, another place and yet he was here. Hoping he’d get the courage to introduce himself to his granddaughters.


	3. Drama Kings and Queens

**Henry IX (II)**

_“_ _Mommy, mommy, please mommy, no! Don’t leave me, mommy!”_ _Henry yelled at his fleeing mother. “Mommy, I will be good. Please mommy.” But his pleas continued to be unanswered until something pushed him to the ground. He raised his head and found the Imperial Ambassador. “Get out! You took my mother away from me.”_

_“Look at you. How can anyone call you a man is a beyond me.” He said with disgust. Henry defended himself by telling him he had won._

_“What battles have you won? So you fought against the Queen of Scots’ fledgling army. Is that a true victory when you had the upper hand? Did you ever suffer? Know cold, want or fear of death?” Henry was about to respond when the Imperial Ambassador beat him with his walking stick._

_Mommy -he screamed mentally. He wanted to have her by his side. Petting his head, kissing his hair, like she did with Phil before she was taken to the tower._

_Eustace Chapuys chuckled. “You are pathetic Henry.” He vanished. Henry found himself standing. He felt shorter. Upon seeing his hands, he realized he was back to this three-year-old form. In every dream, he’d find himself as a three-year-old. Tonight was no different, except that his nightmare had started with him in his current form, of an adult and went to his childhood form as it neared its end._

_Henry felt tears. What felt like tears. When he touched them and brought his hands down he realized it was blood._

_“You are soulless Henry.” His mother appeared in front of him. “You were just a spur of your father’s seed. I didn’t want you, nor did he. You were only good in securing my position as in making the Duke feel good about himself.”_

_He shook his head. He knew he had to be more than that. “Mommy, I begged for your release. I asked grandfather to let you go. I asked him to execute me instead.”_

_“My poor, sweet, naïve Henry. Can’t you see? A woman as virtuous as men can never love someone who’s devoid of a soul.”_

_“No! I refuse to believe that. You love me. You told my daddy many times.”_

_Mary cruelly laughed. “I only said that so Philip wouldn’t suspect. He isn’t your daddy, Eustace Chapuys is and he finds you repugnant. The minute you were born, he prayed that you’d die so nobody would suspect us.”_

_“No! I wrote you letters. Before the Duke made Susan tell me the truth, I wrote to you. I prayed that I’d die so we would be together in heaven.”_

_“You weren’t meant for heaven, none of us were.” She said and giving him one last sardonic smile, she disappeared and he woke up._

Henry missed her. There was no way around it. He both loved and hated her. He and his sister had celebrated their parents’ death with glee, making up excuses to avoid suspicion but inside, they were seething. Jealousy was like a disease. It ate you up until there was nothing left. His nightmares had that right. Henry was soulless. He had stopped caring about anyone except himself the minute his half-brother died.

Poor Mary. She did her best to cheer him up. Nobody could say no to his wife. Even that Stuart bitch was won over by her flattery. Catherine was another tale. She was good at making friends, but didn’t bother to cater to those she deemed unworthy of her time. One of those people was Mary Stuart.

Mary Stuart dared to insult the Portuguese Grandees. Catherine was courteous, cultivated, grown pampered her entire life, but unlike the former Queen of Scots, Catherine was prudent and possessed good common sense.

Catherine let the Stuart Queen’s barb slide. When the Stuart Queen met with her however, Catherine and his aunt put her in her rightful place. It was one of the few displays of solidary between his wife and aunt, that Henry greatly appreciated from Catherine.  
Catherine wrote to him, detailing their conversation. Henry had congratulated his wife and aunt on a job well done. With the Stuart Queen out of the way and Catherine de Medici in no position to help her, and her mother-in-law, convinced that she was guilty, he could have direct influence in Scotland through her son, James VI. James Stewart had been hard to pacify but thanks to John Knox, he had accomplished that. Then came Mary Stuart’s father-in-law, the Earl of Lennox. He was no friend of the crown. With ambitions of his own, he sought his grandson as his one way ticket to open rebellion against the Tudors to place the Stuart King in the throne. But one big incentive and he was pacified as well.

The one thing that Henry was unable to rid himself of was his nightmares. Every night, he dreamed of her. Sometimes it would be difficult to distinguish between his past and his night terrors. His father didn’t know. Eustace Chapuys was more preoccupied with looking after his grandchildren and chiding Henry whenever he had the chance.

Henry wished he didn’t have to see his smug face every time. Though more than his smugness, it was his face alone that haunted him. When he was younger he took more after his mother but as he got older he took more after his real father that it wasn’t long before the Duke of Bavaria put two and two together. He still had tinges of auburn in his hair, and his jaw structure reminded people of his grandfather in his prime; but the Habsburgs weren’t stupid. They had come to know Eustace Chapuys, and likely suspected Henry and Lizzie’s true parentage.

He turned to the warm body next to him. In one of those rare instances, he and Catherine had decided to sleep together again. It was important to keep up appearances for when the Spaniards arrived.

He couldn’t help but think how peaceful she looked. _And beautiful_ -he thought. He and Catherine had met each other when he visited Portugal. His companions told him of a nearby brothel where he could find a kindred spirit. Henry declined their offer. He preferred a true experience over a momentary vain one. “Your loss.” They said, leaving him alone in the royal court where he mingled with the higher nobles. He surprised most of them by speaking their language without an accent. The most shocked was the Duchess Dowager of Guimares and Braganza. She had just finished her mourning period. She told Henry she detested the clothes she was forced to wear. “For a husband I wasn’t even close to. He was off to war or defending my honor, more than he was with me.” She told him. Henry was captivated by her independent spirit. His business trip soon becaome something more.

His Privy Council wasn't happy. Cecil, Walsingham and Lord Leicester warned him of papist influence. They went so far as to claim that she was a secret agent working for the Spanish crown to kill him and put Mary Stuart on the throne.

As King, he reminded him, their rise was entirely dependent on him. And as his father's grandson, he would marry with or without their consent.

His aunt helped him convince parliament of their union. Knowing how important it was to have the pope's approval, he sent one of his ambassadors to Rome to request a papal dispensation. Not being a fan of England but much less of Spain, the pope readily gave it to him. Like the Privy Council, the bishop of Rome thought that his wife would murder him in his sleep or at the very least, kill him when she gave him a son so she could rule through him and return Catholicism to England.

Catherine proved them wrong. The two knew what they were getting into the minute they said 'I do' on Winchester Cathedral. Catherine wore a beautiful purple velvet dress, long bell sleeves and a golden coronet studded with diamonds and other precious gems. He also wore purple velvet. On his black hat he wore golden, green and purple feathers, and a coin that had the emblem of both of their Houses.

A month after that, he declared that he would defend his wife's claim to the Portuguese throne. Philip II was quick to send the Count of Feria, advising him that a war with Spain would end badly for him. Henry didn't care that Philip had a bigger army or support or support from Catholic Europe. To humiliate Spain, he would make an alliance with the Turks, send more money to the Huguenots in France and the Protestants in the Netherlands to weaken his Catholic enemies.  
Spain's response was to spread rumors, tarnishing his reputation as a wife-beater. Catherine de Medici helped spread these rumors because she was unsatisfied with England's commitment to the Protestant cause in France. As soon as he stopped supported her mortal enemy and her son, Henri Valois, she became his ally again.

Not all rumors were that easy to dispel. While some faded, others remained. Northern Catholics had the wrong idea that his wife was his puppet. If they only knew the truth. Catherine had as much agency as his aunt. She married him because she loved him and because he was her best option against being incarcerated or stripped of her claim by her distant cousin, Philip of Spain.

But the birth of Eleanor had complicated things. She had become distant and so did he. Eleanor did her best to make both of her parents proud. There were times where Henry smiled at her, and remarked on her kindness and Catherine would place her on her knee and whisper in her ear how much she loved her; but other times they couldn't bear to look at her.

It was wrong. They were wrong. But that is the hand that they were dealt with and there was no way around it.

When the sun rose, he dismissed Lettice then went to his state chambers. He found Nor and William playing hide and seek. 

 

"What are you doing?" He asked them. A rhetorical question he already knew the answer to. But he wanted to hear them say it, so he had another excuse not to see them, especially her.

"Nothing daddy. William was showing me letters."

"Nor." William hissed.

Nor looked down at her feet. "I am sorry William. Daddy, do not be mad. It is not William's fault. I asked him to let me come here. I dared him."

"And like a lost puppy you chose to listen to her?" Before William could answer his father, Henry added, "No. You did not because you are not a tool, you are a coward. The next time you choose to cower behind your sister's skirts, teach her how to speak. A parrot has more eloquence."

Henry heard a gasp. William and Eleanor heard it too but they quickly dismissed it. His youngest daughter began to cry. "Do not do that. You are a Princess, none of your sisters have ever cried over something I've said."

"That's because you treat them better." William said. He wrapped his arms around his sister and whispered in her ear. The scene was too reminiscent of him and Lizzie when they were little. It made him angrier. Pushing William away he told Nor to look at him. "I am not telling this to make you feel bad. This is for your own good."

"No, Will is right. You love my sisters more than you love me!" Nor screamed.

"No, I do not."

"Then why don't you say anything to them?"

"They never give me a reason to. You miss your dance lessons, you don't want to read, you don't want to pray. What is wrong with you? Is it because Theresa stole your favorite doll? Is that it? My brother and I fought all the time, I never let that get in the way of my studies. If you think your sisters have preferential treatment, you should start wondering why and then look in the mirror, daughter."

The way he said 'daughter' made her cry harder. "Nor, wait!" Will said, chasing after her. 

Finally, Henry had some peace and quiet. Albeit, not for long. His ghostly father decided to make his presence known. "That was uncalled for."

"She's my daughter, not yours. When I want lessons in parenting, I will make sure to my aunt."

"You are punishing your daughter because she looks like your mother. Is that her fault or mine? You should be thankful that you were granted this mercy, boy." Eustace Chapuys said, sitting down.

"Mercy? You call seeing her face on my daughter, mercy?"

"Yes. Your daughter is very special but you are too blinded by your hatred of your mother and me to see it." 

Henry told him to get out. The last thing he needed was a lecture from a morally bankrupt man as Eustace Chapuys. After he left, the Spanish ambassador and Walsingham came, bringing him good news. The King of Spain would not only agree to marry Victoria, but he would also lay down his claim to the Portuguese throne if Henry agreed to marry his younger daughter, Theresa to Philip's baseborn son.

It was more than Henry could ask for. It wasn't controversial for a King to make a bastard into a King. England was paved with bastard kings and descendants of bastards lines, and Portugal had already had a bastard monarch under Theresa's namesake, when it was still a required to swear fealty to Castile.

Catherine wasn't going to be pleased with the news but she would come to see the light. If she couldn't have Portugal, she would rest easy knowing that her descendants would.

* * *

 

**The Imperial Ambassador (I)**

Eustace Chapuys wanted to scream at Henry. He didn't know how lucky he was. God had given him a second chance with his daughter and he was wasting it because he was more interested in blaming him.

He appeared in the gardens where he watched William and Eleanor play with one another. There was something about that boy, he didn't know what, but something was off about him. At first he thought that it was because he took after his father, but unlike Henry, who hated Elizabeth, William adored his youngest sister.

Eustace never wished ill on anybody. He didn't have to. Henry was digging his own son's brave by choosing power over his family.

It was sad. Before she died, Mary had begged him to look after their son. She actually called Henry their little boy.

_"Promise me you will look after him, Eustace. He's our little boy."_

His interactions with Henry confirmed him what he already suspected. Henry was the spitting image of his namesake and his namesake's father. There was little of Eustace or Mary in him.

Being around him was intolerable. But he was still here for some reason. His first instincts upon finding himself in England were to visit Christoph but seeing how happy he was, he decided not to. Christoph and Isabella were good people. Henry on the other hand, was a self-serving idiot who didn't want to listen to common sense.

"Will. Look I have flowers on my hair!" Nor screamed putting on the crown of flowers Will made for her. 

Eustace felt happy watching the two interact. Eleanor was the youngest of his grandchildren. She was a lot like her great-grandmother. While she took after Mary physically, she was very sensitive like Mary's mother. Henry wasn't helping her by saying the things he did to her.

She saw the world through a rose colored prism. 

"You look beautiful, sister. You should hide it from Theresa. Remember what she did to your doll."

"I don't have to worry about Theresa any longer. Vicky fixed my doll and it is better than it ever was. If Theresa does something to it, I will call her horse-face."

William chuckled.

Eustace left the scene. He returned to Henry's state chambers. He wasn't there. Seeing the sun set, Chapuys figured that he was with his wife or his latest mistress.

Shame. Henry had the potential to be a great king, and this is what he did instead. 

* * *

 

**Sisters (I)**

"Guess what?" Theresa covered Nor's eyes. 

"I don't want to play games. I am not in the mood."

"Oh, dear God, you are so boring." Theresa said, lifting her hands from her sister's face. Nor turned to face her. "Daddy just agreed to give up mommy's claim to the Portuguese throne in return of me marrying the King's son."

"But the King has no son. Don Carlos is dead."

"I know you big fool." Theresa told her. "I am talking about his other son. His bastard son."

"That is a mean thing to say."

"It's the truth, isn't it? Just like our aunt Lizzie."

"That still doesn't make it right." Nor said, not liking when people said mean things. It made her feel sad.

"Doesn't make it wrong either. Anyway, I am going to be Queen of Portugal which means that when I am fifteen I will be called Your Majesty just like daddy!"

"Congratulations. I bet mommy is very happy."

"Are you kidding me? She is beyond elated. She said that she is proud. Can you imagine? Me? Theresa, the younger sister. Virginia was so jealous. I told her 'don't be so angry that the better woman won, sweetheart.'" Theresa laughed remembering the red shade on little miss sunshine's cheeks.

Virginia loved to show off her piety as if she was some sort of saint. She wasn't afraid to point out Virginia's hypocrisy, even if that got her on her mother's bad side. It wasn't as bad as when she was angry at Nor.

Nor. Everything about her, made it easy for Theresa to bully. She wasn't an outstanding beauty like their older sister, or little miss perfect, Vicky, but she did have her assets. And Theresa would be a hypocrite if she didn't admit to herself that it did make her jealous.

And there was more. Nor also loved to think of herself as the victim when she was anything but. Her twin was a fool. Plain and simple. She was too weak to defend herself so she let others do it.

"Mommy is proud of you?" Nor asked, feeling sadder than when she heard her twin call her future husband a bastard. She felt like crying again. She remembered what her father said when he surprised her and William on his office.

"Oh, don't be sad, Nor. I am sure mother will be proud of you someday -when you get a brain."

She hid underneath the covers and hugged herself.

* * *

**Lizzie (II)**

Oh that girl Theresa. Vicky asked Lizzie if she and Nor could sleep with her. Lizzie didn't want to be their nanny but seeing Nor, made her unable to say no. Damn Theresa and double damn Henry for being so insensitive towards his daughter.

If she ever got to have a daughter like Nor, she would love her. It wasn't the poor tot's fault that she looked like her whorish grandmother. Henry needed to stop living in the past. So did she. But it was hard. People had no idea what they've been through, especially her.

She stopped relying on others when she married Henry Carey. Nobody was going to help anyone but themselves. People were selfish so she was selfish.

"Hush, come let aunt Lizzie look at you." Nor lifted her face so her aunt would examine her.

Lizzie mentally cursed her niece. She turned to Victoria. "Is this the first time she's done this?"

"Yes. Theresa claimed it was an accident but I was there." 

"She should not have done to your face. She's just jealous because you are beautiful and she's not. I know what will help. Some rose water." Lizzie went to get her make up and kit. She told Vicky to help her clean the shit stain from her face.

Nor relayed to Lizzie that when she heard Vicky's dog barking. Nor discovered that it had shit itself on her side of the room. Nor laughed and that made Theresa ugly. She took Nor's handkerchief and with it, picked the dog's mess and threw it at Nor.

"Why does Theresa hate me so much? I never did anything to her." Nor asked her after Lizzie and Vicky were done cleaning her face and started to apply make up.

"She is a jealous moron. Next time she does, throw it back at her."

Nor nodded. Lizzie looked at Vicky. The two shared a look that told each other that Nor wasn't likely going to.

Lizzie began to apply blush on her face. When she was done she brought her hand mirror. Nor gasped. "Is that me?"

"See how pretty you are? And I know how to make you prettier. Smile. Don't be afraid to show off your beauty." Nor did smile.

Lizzie let her look at herself in the mirror for some time. Lizzie addressed her eldest niece, asking how she felt about her betrothal now that it was official.

"Nervous. I want to make my country proud but I barely know anything about him except what he looks like."

"I heard that he is very handsome and he has had the most beautiful women in his bed. You should consider yourself lucky."

"That's not an accomplishment. I want to marry someone who loves me. Like my father when he married my mother."

Not everyone could have what they wanted. Lizzie sympathized with her niece. She also dreamed of happily ever afters ... once.

"You must count your blessings. The King of Spain has two daughters a little younger than you. It's been rumored that he cried for days after finding about their mother's death. Of all the Kings in Europe, you could do worse." Lizzie softly said then added, returning to her usual jesting self. "Besides, he is a man and like any man he loves beautiful things and any man who doesn't see you for the attractive woman you are, is a blind man."

"Thank you aunt. You always find a way to make things better."

"It is my special gift." Among other things, was left unsaid. She didn't have to say it, Victoria knew about Lizzie's other gifts.

When Nor yawned, Lizzie knew it was time for them to go to bed. Her bed was big enough for the three of them, leaving ample space for Vicky to stretch her legs and Nor to lay between them.

* * *

**Catherine (II)**

"Where were you yesterday night?" Catherine asked her youngest daughter. She didn't like Nor spending too much time with Victoria Lizzie was fine. The woman was refined and despite her vulgarity, she was prudent enough to keep her crude comments to herself when she was around children.

Catherine was still angry that Vicky had refused her aid. If anyone knew anything about Spanish customs, it was her. Did the girl think that the Spaniards would accept her with open arms? Her, a rude, foul mouthed, Englishwoman?

The King of Spain might as well be marrying a sailor because Victoria was too brash to have any sense of propriety. Her husband tried. Henry stressed on his favorite daughter the importance of acting like a lady, holding her tongue, and not speaking her mind all the time, but Victoria was a wild card.

But what more could be expected of an indulgent girl? Or young woman. Victoria was a sixteen year old Princess. It was time she started acting like one.

"You know I do not like you running off like that. Someone could have taken you."

"Nobody would have taken her mother. The palace is a safe haven." Virginia said, smiling at her and her youngest sister.

"I don't care how many guards are placed in every corner. It is still dangerous. Promise me, you are never going to do that again."

Nor nodded. 

"Good, now tell me where you were."

"I was with Vicky and aunt Lizzie. She put make up on me. Told me I was beautiful and ..."

"What?"

"She believed me, mommy. She trusted me."

"I have always trusted you, Nor, but it's not good for you to call Theresa names."

"But Theresa deserves to be called horse faced. She looks like a horse and she is mean."

"And how are you responding? By calling her ugly? If you have a problem with your sister, you should come to me or your father first." Catherine told her. She put Nor down and made her promise for a second time that she would not run off into the night. After Nor promised her, Catherine told her and Virginia to resume their lessons with Master Crofton.

Catherine stayed with them, admonishing them whenever they spoke out of turn or caught Nor laughing for no reason. 

When their lessons were done, Catherine traveled to William's chambers. As Prince of Wales he was supposed to have his own establishment, but Catherine had convinced Henry not to send him away.

She thanked the Lord every time she watched her children. They were her greatest joy. Being around them, brought her pure joy. They were the product of her love with Henry.

She smiled tenderly remembering the first time they became man and wife. Henry asked her "Will you be mine?" She said "yes". He didn't need to put up a big display for her but he did. He dressed up as Robin Hood and with his band of merry men burst into her chambers.

Catherine chided him. "Was I everything you hoped for?" He asked her, not minding her tone. Again, she said "yes". Henry told his men to leave then took her to bed. The two weren't married yet, not officially. People whispered behind her back all sorts of things. She didn't care. Henry and her were betrothed before the pope had given the dispensation. In the eyes of the Lord, they were only doing what was expected of them. Seven months later, their first set of twins were born. The whispers stopped.

Catherine longed for those days. Henry was still attentive to her. He never humiliated her in public. But it was not like when they first met. She wanted some of that old spark back.

William was playing with his toy soldiers. He was going to make a good king. He had Henry's features and her strength. 

Turning to her, William ran to her. Catherine hugged him. Her perfect son -she thought. He was a perfect mixture of his parents. If she never got that spark back, she would content herself knowing that William would one day be the kind of monarch her husband was.


	4. Stepping out of line

**Royal Gathering (I)**

Victoria looked to her sisters, Virginia and Nor. They were playing with their favorite dolls. Virginia didn’t make a big deal out of Nor’s new doll.

“Nor, take your doll out of Cassie’s mouth.” Nor took it out of Vicky’s dog’s mouth. She laughed when Cassie ran up to Virginia and licked her doll’s skirts.

Vicky shared a laugh too. She had to admit it was funny. Seeing her sisters play and having fun brought memories of her childhood. Her playmate was her mother. When she was too sick to be with her, her father took her place.

Henry IX was never too sick or too tired to play with his daughter. But then Vicky grew up and her newly married father deemed her too old for playing with dolls.

A knock at the door broke her chain of thought. It was the king of Spain and his companion the Prince of Eboli. Victoria greeted them as well as a Princess of the blood would. Her sisters followed suit.

“Your father has given me permission to court you. So has your lady mother.”

At the mention of her stepmother being referred to her as her ‘lady mother’, Vicky became angry. The King of Spain didn’t miss this and went further. “She said that you would be happy to treat me to a lecture of poetry. Since it is Poetry day, and she’s constantly praise you, I figured I couldn’t miss an opportunity to hear your soft voice.”

This was a lie and the King of Spain knew it. If it wasn’t rude to laugh, Ruy Gomez da Silva would have laughed out loud. The girl’s voice was so shy and low that you could barely hear her and then there were times when she was too loud. Spain didn’t like their ladies being loud, especially their Queens. Isabella, God rest her soul, didn’t have to raise her voice to get her point across.

“My lady stepmother,” Vicky corrected her betrothed, “is a great hostess and as I am to please, I cannot wait to hear Your Majesty’s opinion of my vocal talents.”

Nor and Virginia sat next to Ruy and the King. The King asked Princess Eleanor where she’d gotten her doll.   
“My lord father gave it to me. Vicky added the new layers to the dress.”

“I can see that. Your sister Vicky is very good to you.”

“She is. She and aunt Lizzie are the best. Aunt Lizzie sings songs and can talk to me for hours of far away kingdoms she’s read in books.”

“Your aunt Lizzie has rea a lot.” The King of Spain said, smiling to himself as he imagined his fellow monarch’s bastard sister reading to him at night.

“She knows everything. She was my tutor before my lady mother said I needed to study other objects. I didn’t want her to go. Aunt Lizzie is patient. She lets me laugh and eat whenever I want to as long as I do my homework. She encouraged me to write and taught me languages.”

The King was becoming more impressed with Henry’s bastard sister. Turning to Henry’s daughter, Philip couldn’t help but wish their roles were reversed. He had seen the Countess Dowager tending to a sick man by the road, while the Princess bragged on about what her next gown would be.

The King of England’s eldest daughter had no respect for anyone but herself and her family, and even there, she would only show respect to those who complimented her looks or agreed with whatever nonsense she was saying.  
Yesterday night, at a vigil the King had organized for victims of the plague last year, Princess Victoria started to laugh right after the Mass was over. This was unheard of in Spain! If a Princess showed that behavior she would be sent to a nunnery where she would be lectured on morality.

By contrast, her aunt not only pitied the poor, but was interested in helping them by showing them empathy. Just what kind of cruel fate was this? He wasn’t one to question God’s purpose, but why make a well-deserving lady a bastard and a vulgar lady a Princess. It made no sense. God had a purpose, but he saw no reason why he’d make a fine lady like the Countess Dowager into a bastard while her niece -who wasn’t deserving of her title- into his future Queen.

Victoria began to tune in her music instrument. She wasn’t fond of playing like her younger sisters. The only exception was Theresa but even she played from time to time. Why did Catherine have to tell the King of Spain about her so called ‘talents’? That woman never ceased to make her angry. Vicky bet she did this on purpose, to humiliate her in front of her future husband and his servants.

Vicky tried her best but she fell short. She couldn’t remember the last words of the poem her aunt had transformed into song. Honestly, this national poem day was stupid. The only reason her father allowed Catherine to come up with these things was because she gave him a son.   
When she ran out of words to say, she stopped playing.

If the King of Spain wasn’t too polite, he would have been honest with the girl and relayed to her all her faults.

“Bravo.” Philip said. “I have never seen anything like it.”

His words however told her everything she needed to know. She had failed and it wasn’t long before the entire court spoke of it in hushed voices.

Catherine came after the event had happened to tell Victoria that she didn’t fault her for her crass behavior. “It’s only natural. You haven’t been properly trained. I’ve spoken to your father about this and he’s arranged for a tutor to … Victoria are you listening to me?”

Vicky crouched down to play with her dog. She found her company much better than her stepmother who was far too boring and took too long to get to the bloody point.

“I am trying to make you presentable to the King of Spain. People expect a lot from you. If you could just put as much effort in trying as you do with playing with your dog-“

“Then what? He will fall to his knees and propose? I am going to marry him, aren’t I? It’s official, he signed the treaty. I shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not I am his type.”

“This is not about that. It’s about dignity. Spain is not England. Listen to me for once.”

“I know Spain is not England. I am not stupid.”

“Then why aren’t you listening to me? I am going out of my way to making sure that the King pays attention to you and only to you. What is so funny?” Catherine asked after her stepdaughter started to laugh.

“I never took you for someone to buy into court gossip. This is about my aunt Lizzie, isn’t it? Lettice told me all about it. It’s nonsense.”

“This is not simple gossip. This is Philip Habsburg. His reputation among women is infamous and  you and I don’t want this to go the way your of your great-grandfather when he looked at Elizabeth Tudor’s mother.”

If so, it wouldn’t matter. “England is England and Spain is Spain.” Vicky countered her stepmother using her logic. “Philip will never break a deal to marry a simple commoner.”

“Your aunt is not a commoner, Victoria. She has King’s blood just as you do and if he gets enough incentive from Cecil or the others, mark my words, he will choose her over you.”

Vicky snorted at that.

“Why can’t you see things clearly? Cecil and the rest are not looking out for your interests, your father and I am. I have done the impossible to impress on the King of Spain what a fine lady you are.”

“Yes, I have heard it countless times from other English roses. In that, you and them are exactly that same.”

“Then again, you hate English roses so in a way it must rankle you.” Vicky added silkily with a smirk. Unknown to her, someone was watching them and he couldn’t help but smile at his granddaughter’s witty response. It reminded him so much of himself.

The corners of Catherine’s mouth trembled. She was this close to exploding, but she wouldn’t give her stepdaughter the pleasure of letting her know she got the best of her, so she turned her back and told her, “I don’t have to put up with this. Have fun becoming an older maid and crying to your father about it!” then left.

Vicky chuckled. Her stepmother was crazy. The King had signed the marriage. Nothing could break it except for war or an assassination attempt and since the two weren’t on the horizon, she had nothing to worry about.

* * *

**The Bastard and the king (I)**

Lizzie went into town. London was quiet during this time of year. People preferred to stay indoors. Those that were outside were merchants, nobles and the clergy. The last two would go on to preach about daily evils like laziness and rioting then lecture them on the benefits of being good and loyal servants to the crown.

Lizzie loved being on her own. Handmaidens were always with her, but still, it felt liberating. There were many stores she also visited where she bought everything from dolls and expensive accessories for her nieces.

Today though, was different. Knowing that she was being followed, she went to the hospital her sister-in-law had kept through her annual income. It wasn’t much but it was enough to keep the local officials from branding vagabonds and throwing them in jail for the simple crime of begging.

“Bless you, my lady.” The priest said, taking her bread and other offerings that he gave to the poor.

“My lady, we should go.” Her handmaiden Muriel said.

“After the ceremony, Muriel. Ladies, help me and the priest feed these people.”

Her ladies weren’t fond of helping their mistress, but they couldn’t protest. They were bound to her and Lizzie took advantage of that as she moved to the second group of poor people, and handed them freshly baked bread and cheese.

“Bless you, lady.” They all said. A few stuttered, unsure of what her title was. Lizzie found it all too sad but she didn’t let it show on her face. The last thing these people needed was being pitied at.

She crouched down and handed the last loaf of bread to a five year old. Dark blue eyes, dark red hair with far skin, the little girl reminded her of her youngest niece. She gave her an extra piece of cheese and fruit.

“Thank … you … milady.” Lizzie smiled at her and watched her join her family.

She turned and left the hospital. She gasped when she was stopped by Philip who was dressed as a common merchant.

“That was impressive.”

“Thank you. If I am not too bold, what is Your Majesty doing outside the comfortable confines of Westminster Palace? These are highly dangerous places for a King to be.”

“More reason for me to keep you company.” Philip said. “Will you grant me the honor of your company?”

Before Lizzie could respond, the King added, “In there I wouldn’t be so bold and neither would you. Here, I am just a merchant, no different than anyone else. If the King found out, he’d be quick to blame you so it’s better to keep up appearances. So I ask you again, will you grand me the honor of walking with you?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Philip said, unwilling to accept defeat.

“Because I have a long day ahead of me and I don’t want to burden Your Majesty with my problems.”

“Nothing can be too much for a King to handle. You forgot what I told you last time, I am a good listener.”

“The answer is still no.”

“Then I will remain here, and persist.”

“Persist all you want.” Lizzie said and tried to push him away but he wouldn’t until she said yes so she finally said yes.

“My lady is far too stubborn but you have a good heart. I have never seen the poor react so kindly on any member of your family except your sister-in-law.”

“You think too poorly of us. The Tudors are always there to help the needy.” Seeing the King’s skeptical look, she elaborated. “When I was a little girl, after the Duke died, I was given to the Duke of Somerset. The Duchess taught me everything from sewing, knitting, singing and dancing. One day, a beggar came to our door. She asked for a simple loaf of bread. The Duke saw the man and let him stay with us for a week until he found him a place to work. The man was a smith’s son whose family had fallen on hard times so the lord protector found him a job as a smith’s apprentice in Dorset. When I asked him why he did that, he told me that kindness goes a long way.” Lizzie said. “I didn’t believe him at first but I watched how people cheered for him every time we would move. I know that beyond these Isles people speak badly of him and his Duchess, but I learned a lot during my short time with him, and his Duchess was always good to me.”

“He sounds like a good man but good men don’t often make good governors and much less de-facto Kings and that is what he was, a king in all but name.”

Lizzie had to nod her head at that. To her, he would be the lord protector, her guardian and his duchess, her surrogate mother.

“There are exceptions to the rule.” Lizzie said. “The Duke of Northumberland was of course, against it. He said, the more you help these people, the more you rely on it.”

“Of course. I can’t believe you still maintain your faith in humanity after everything you’ve been exposed to.”

“I have had the fortune of having good guardians.” She told him. They went to one of the shops where he had to wait a long time for her to come out of the fitting room. “Do you like how it looks?”

He nodded. There was hardly anything that could make her look fat or too thin, or ugly. She looked perfect in everything. After voicing his thoughts aloud, she made the decision to take everything the store had to offer.

“Don’t you wish to look at other stores first?” Philip asked her.

She waved her hand dismissively. “There is no need. This is the most expensive one in London and if the gowns I picked are good enough for the King of Spain, then they are good enough for me. Do you need any help ladies?” She asked her women. They shook their heads.

“If you have enough money to help people why not use some to treat yourself too?”

“You don’t feel in the slightest bit guilty for being born to a life of privilege?” Philip was curious.

“Good God, no! Why would I feel guilty to be excluded from the less fortunate? I do what I can to help this people so does the Queen. Those who beat their chest and constantly go on about how we are all guilty for having everything when they have nothing are hypocrites. Do you think Cecil bats one eye for them? Of course not, yet he condemns the aristocrats for having royal blood.”

“King Henry should listen to you instead of his aunt.”

“I take insult to that. She is my auntie too and at one time she was my guardian as well.”

“Is that why you didn’t bother to mention her when your brother consoled your sons after the God knows what anniversary since your husband, her cousin’s death?” Lizzie glared at him. “Sorry, but it is the truth. Are you going to deny that you don’t harbor some resentment for marrying her to an uncivilized brute?”

“Since when are brutes, civilized?”

“You are dodging the question.” Philip said.

“I am not. I just don’t see how that is important.”

“It is every bit as important. Your brother wants me to feel at home, as his subject you should help him.”

Lizzie sighed. The subject of her marriage was not something she felt happy to discuss, especially with a stranger. Although technically Philip wasn’t a stranger. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t love my husband.” Lizzie confessed to him. “The first time I married him, I was excited. Auntie Bess promised me a knight in shining armor. I had grown with tales of dragons, hydras and other mythological creatures slayed by valiant knights who rescued the helpless maidens from the tower. I thought that he would rescue me from my boring life. But the first night I realized he was the opposite of what a knight was.”

“Books love to gloss over the cruelties of men. Most of the Knights tend to be the real villains.” Philip said, feeling sympathy for her.

“I was called a bastard all the time by my stepfather. I didn’t mind. Henry, before he became King, was there with me but after the crown was placed on his head, he stopped caring about my well-being and started to looking who to sell me to. And don’t get me wrong, there were countless offers, including the late Queen of Scots’ half-brother but our auntie convinced him to marry me to her cousin.”

“Do you love your children?”

“If by love you mean putting up with them, I guess I do, to some extent.”

Philip did not blame her for her vague answer. He didn’t like that she had no maternal instinct over her sons, but he had seen the way she had acted towards her nieces and nephew. She definitely cared for them, she just couldn’t bring herself to feel the same for two boys who were forced themselves upon her. And why would she? He thought, when those two boys were insolent and pampered by everyone, including their uncle, the King.

“I felt the same for my son, my firstborn, Don Carlos. I couldn’t bear to look at him. He reminded me of his mother. My father wanted a Portuguese alliance, anything to bring me closer to the Portuguese throne. I was in in no position to say no so I married her. She was dead before the two of us really got to know each other, giving birth to Carlos. I woke up every night to make sure he was doing well. As he got older, his temper tantrums became intolerable. He always relied on his aunt, my sister for support but even she abandoned him. When my second wife died, he blamed me for her dead and eventually he died while he was in prison.”

“Children are a parents’ blessing. More like a curse.” Lizzie believed.

“They start as a blessing but become a curse.” Philip corrected her.

The two talked some more until they reached the royal palace. Before she walked inside, Philip abruptly stopped her, speaking what had been on his mind for days. “I have seen the way you look at me. Perhaps we can chat more of our private disappointments when the lights are off.”

“Now that is too bold, even for Your Majesty. Imagine the scandal if my dear brother found out.”

“Mmm, yes, I imagine he would be angry but you have my word that nothing bad will befall on you.”

Lizzie wished she could believe him but a life of disappointments had taught her not to believe in the words of a handsome man. Philip however was persistent.

“A key will be under my rug. Muriel will be the one to answer you so you know that it is safe,”

Philip smiled at her. He wouldn't let her know how giddy he felt to have her approval. She winked at him as she walked inside Westminster Palace. Philip went through the other entrance, so he wouldn’t be spotted by the King’s spies.

As promised, her handmaiden answered the door. Nobody saw him go in except for one of his ambassador’s spies who went back to relay the news on an angry Christoph Chapuys.

Seeing her hair fall down her shoulders, unconfined by the hair net on her headdress made his loins stir with desire. She did not giggle or kiss him hungrily with desire like most of his past mistresses did. There was a dignified stance to her that he hadn't seen on anyone, including his late wives. 

Once again, he felt lament that she wasn't the one he could make his wife. As she led him to her bed, a dangerous thought entered his head as he began to reconsider his treaty with her brother. He was King of Spain, wasn't he? He owned half the world and had more influence than any monarch in history. If he wished it, he could take her like Paris Alexander took Helen, and make her his Queen and unlike the Trojan Prince, there would be no army great enough to oppose him.

* * *

**The Spanish Ambassador (II)**

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” His spy nodded his head and gave him the other details regarding the King’s whereabouts.

Christoph dismissed them then turned to his wife. He became annoyed by her smile. “Oh come on, Chris, you could not have expected the King of Spain not to have fallen for the carbon copy of her ancestor. The enchantress.”

“Stop saying that. There is no such thing as a water goddess. Never was, never has been and Elizabeth FitzTudor is nothing more than a common whore.”

“Harlot is the word. Whore doesn’t apply to the highborn and it was a river goddess not a water goddess.”

“I don’t care who she was. She is a figment of the imagination and by following Elizabeth Woodville’s example, Elizabeth FitzTudor is undermining all the good work I have done to make this betrothal happen.”

“If the King of England knows what is good for him, he will turn the other cheek as our Lord Jesus Christ.”

“This is no time for your jests, wife.”

“It’s no jest. You want a betrothal that will ensure peace between England and Spain and so does he, so get to work harder and convince the uppity King of England that it is in his best interests to let Philip marry Elizabeth.”

“It’s not so simple. Parliament will never allow it. Besides, she is betrothed to Lord Hertford.”

“So?” His wife said. “Who cares what a bunch of men in black hats say. The King answers to no one but to God and God’s representative is the pope and in England is the King, so both can choose to change the wording of the marriage contract if they wish to.”

Christoph’s wife was far too simple-minded. She didn’t realize that much more was at stake here than just wishful thinking. War could be a mayor consequence of this. He had heard enough from his father -during his time in St. Omer- and reports from wayward soldiers to know how easily another big war could be started.


	5. Royal Humiliation

**The Imperial Ambassador (II)**

When Mary was a child, she would compete with the other kids to see who was the fastest. Seeing Henry’s second youngest daughter run through the maze he’d built in the gardens of Hampton Court, made him feel jealous. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, but it was impossible to feel any other way when his youngest, was seated in the bench watching her sister and her friends play.

Mary would have run up to Theresa and told her she wasn’t going to take her verbal abuse. But Mary had the good fortune of being the eldest and not being a painful reminder of a woman who was widely hated by the Protestant elites. Even when Catherine’s name was practically banned at court, people still respected her and despite her struggles, Mary never let anyone get the best of her.

 _Except when Queen B came._ Mary loved to call Kitty Howard “Queen bitch” when she was out of ear-reach and when they were together. Eustace warned her that one day Queen Bitch would strike back. As with many things that had to do with Kitty Howard, Mary didn’t take her seriously. The two quarreled and insulted each other, but only Kitty was smart enough to plot behind Mary’s back, waiting for the right opportunity to bring her opponent down. _And needless to say, soon came too soon_.

Eustace walked to Eleanor. The poor girl was so solitary that nobody was watching her. Her mother was busy watching her eldest sing and wishing her stepdaughter could show the same aptitude for music. Eustace sat next to Eleanor.

Eleanor didn’t look up at him, but she was aware of his presence. “Did daddy send you? Is he mad at me again?” Nor asked him, looking further down.

Poor girl. Henry would be angry when he found out -and he was sure he would soon enough because his youngest granddaughter wasn’t good at lying like her twin- but so what if he did? Right now, Eustace didn’t care about what Henry wanted. He was more interested in hearing what Eleanor had to say.

“You write very beautifully. Is that Arabic?” Eleanor nodded. “When my son was your age he could absorb every word. He set his mind to something and by God, he’d accomplish his goal.”

“Are you part of the court? If you are, then you should go back inside and kiss my daddy’s boots.”

Eustace blinked. “Who taught you to speak that way? That is no way Your Highness ought to speak?”

“Ought to but Theresa never follows the rules and my daddy hardly cares what William says or does because he knows that it will upset mommy and Virginia …” Nor shrugged her shoulders. “Virginia is too perfect and Vicky is daddy’s favorite because she got to be born first and he still loves her mommy. You still haven’t answered my question. Did daddy send you?”

Nor began to write more stuff. When she grew tired, she switched to writing in her native English. Doctor John Dee believed that she and her siblings needed to be learned just about every language learned to man and her daddy had started trade with the Islamic Empire in the East so writing in Arabic, he told them, was something they needed to learn if one of their emissaries ever came to their shores.  
Nor didn’t want to meet with one of the heathen Turks. She heard her mommy say that they did horrible things to women, especially foreign women they captured during their raids.

“You already know the answer to that question. You answered it a while ago when you talked about how I should be working harder to get noticed by your father. But that is not how I work, Your Highness. I do not wish to curry favor with your father or anyone else except God.”

“Join the club then. Why are you really here?”

“I am a special guest of your father’s. Unwilling guest, you can call me. I am very sorry that you do not believe me.”

“How do you know I don’t believe you? Am I so easy to read? Have you been hearing what Theresa has said of me because I have also said things about Theresa. She is an ugly horse-faced idiot.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your sister.”

“So? She has not been nice to me. I do not like her. I wish I didn’t have a twin sister and I wish I didn’t have this face.” Her words pained Eustace. “It has brought me nothing but bad luck. Daddy doesn’t say it but I see it in his face. Will is my only friend.”

She didn’t care if her father had sent someone to spy on her. She didn’t need to give him another excuse to be angry at her. Her face was all he needed to believe just about every lie Theresa spewed and her mommy would do nothing because she cared more about making Victoria look good for the King of Spain, and showing off Virginia.

William was her only real friend. He was gentle and strong. He could hug her like no one other and he won every boy wrestling match and unlike what their daddy thought, he didn’t win because the other boys were scared of what he’d do if they didn’t let the future king triumph over them, he won because he was the best. Their mother was over protective because his health wasn’t good. He’d cough really hard and it was hard to know what was causing it. It was why he remained inside most of the times, but despite his seemingly weak constitution, he was physically strong.

“That doesn’t make it right. One wrong doesn’t make a right. But if that is the way you want to see it, then you have no need for my advice.”

Nor said nothing.

“It’s easy to feel like you are invisible. My mother and my uncle fought for my custody after my father passed away. When my mother won, I was forced to share everything with my siblings. It wasn’t easy. I wasn’t the eldest and yet I was the one everyone looked up to because I was the most responsible and had inherited a considerable portion of my father’s state. I was also hated by some of them because I was the only one who looked like my mother.”

“Your parents loved you. They gave you their state, didn’t they? I mean your dad, did. That is how stupid I am. I can’t say things correctly.”

“You are five, you are allowed to make mistakes.” Eustace told her. “Your father didn’t send me to spy on you.”

Nor raised her eyes to him. It was the first time she saw him. He looked a lot like her father and a little like the Spanish ambassador. And there was something else. “Have I seen you before?”

“No. This is the first time you have laid eyes on me, child. You look a lot like your grandmother. No, no, do not look down. That is not something to be ashamed of. Your grandmother was a beautiful woman. One day you will grow up to be just like her.”

“You mean a harlot. That is what they call her. That is what everyone thinks I will become, or die because of my stupidity.” She started to cry.

Eustace got closer.

“Why do you look so much like my daddy? Are you a long lost brother? Are you my uncle?”

Eustace smiled. She was curious, but not smart enough to figure out the truth. “No. I am your grandfather.”

Nor’s eyes widened. Surely, she was dreaming. She had to be, but then again, she felt safe around him. So that could only mean that he was telling her the truth. “Are you dead?”

“I am.”

“So daddy didn’t send you?” The ghost shook his head. “Doctor John Dee didn’t summon you?” Eustace Chapuys laughed. “Princess, John Dee knows as much of the other side as your mother’s chaplain. I am real just as you.”

“But then, what about heaven and hell? Why aren’t you there?”

“I do not know.” He said truthfully. He thought he knew everything there was to know of what awaited him in death, but it turned out that he was a novice.

“God hasn’t told you?” He shook his head. “But then … if daddy didn’t send you, why are you here?” With me, she meant to say.

“I wanted to check on my granddaughter.”

“You must be very disappointed. You probably expected someone with more courage. People say a lot of things about my grandmother but at least she had courage.”

“Your time will come. But one way to be courageous is to stop feeling sorry for yourself. It does you no good. Self-pity is ugly and you are not ugly. Whenever your sister says something, fight back. Tell your mother and if you ever need to talk, call my name, I will come.”

“Philip of Bavaria?” Nor asked timidly, fearing the answer.

“Eustace Chapuys.” Hearing her twin sister and her friends’ voices becoming louder, Eustace stood up, grabbing his cane tighter. Even in death, he could not get rid of his gout. “I will leave you now. Farewell, Princess.” He disappeared. When Theresa came she saw only Eleanor, who returned to her writing.

Feeling more confident, she told Theresa no when Theresa invited her into the maze, then went to their chambers. She was still hurt by her sister and her friends’ laughter but it didn’t hurt as much as before.

* * *

**A Royal Gathering (II)**

Vicky was going to fall asleep. Why did she have to listen to her stepmother’s endless rant? Worse, why did she have to listen to what Virginia sang? Anybody could sing. If she wanted, she could learn how to train her voice to sing to every tune, but she didn’t want to be the typical English rose who laughed and smiled whenever men expected her to.

She was going to marry the King of Spain. They both descended from the Catholic Kings, one of whom was the greatest Queen in European history. Why should she be the opposite of her? Most of the Queens who were perfect models of virtue and chastity turned out to be whores.

Didn’t Queen Isabella’s sister-in-law was praised for her beauty and said to be the most virtuous women in Christendom until it was revealed she behaved no better than a common whore?

Besides, her stepmother’s record in the bedchamber wasn’t exactly spotless. The woman loved to go on about her religious devotion and how she named her children after saints, kings, queens and other people she admired, but few people knew, and those who did weren’t brave enough to speak the truth, that the Queen of England had lured the King of England into her bed before he made her his queen.

How else would her stepmother give birth to twins so quickly and without the risk of dying in childbirth? Seven months and a miracle she and her half-siblings survived? Please! It was as clear as day. From the minute her father brought to England, it was clear to Victoria that she was with child. Catherine’s first joke to her ladies was _“I feel like I should order apples but it is too soon.”_  
She was a shameless woman and Vicky hated her for taking her mother’s place and ordering her father to take down her mother’s portraits.

It was not fair. _Life is not fair, Vicky._ It was true. She had come to know that after her mother passed away.

“You have to tune your voice to the beat of the music like your sister just showed you. Maestro, play it again.

The music tutor Catherine had hired was half-Spanish and half-Portuguese who had studied in Italy. He played all instruments and was highly recommended by some of her friends in Portugal.

Henry IX was willing to bring a costly Catholic music tutor from abroad because he was highly recommended and he was in dire need of making his daughter more attractive to his fellow monarch.

The Maestro played the same music again and Vicky had to sing the same old boring song.

“Higher! You are supposed to lower your voice at the end not the middle. Again.”

**_~o~_ **

The day finally came when Vicky showed off her skills. However, the King of Spain’s attention wasn’t at her. It was on her aunt.

 _No, it can’t be._ But it was. Philip stepped down from the high table and offered to dance with his “royal siren”, and after they were done, he added that beauty and talent ran in the family, switching his glance from her to the Countess Dowager.

Dressed in pink and gold with a pearl necklace she had been given by Philip but told everyone it was something she bought in one of the stores in London, she could feel all eyes on her. Lizzie turned to her brother. Henry shot daggers from his eyes. If this wasn’t his daughter’s great unveiling of her singing talents, he would have placed his hands around her neck.

 _Well dear brother, it looks like this bastard is going places._ She wasn’t a fool. She learned from the best whores. When she had been placed with the Duke of Somerset, his Duchess had told her that the number one trick to snatch a good husband was to ensure that his eyes would stay on you and only you, even after he’s had the first bite of the forbidden fruit. _And Philip has taken many_. Lizzie thought, blushing.  
Philip made her feel special. She was his muse. _And very soon, I will be his Queen_.

She felt bad for her niece but this was a one woman’s show and in a woman’s world, the only way to succeed was by stepping over other women.

Vicky felt humiliated. She was unable to hide it. Philip broke the tension by kissing her cheek and telling Victoria that she put all the sirens to shame. Her father stood from his table and clapped. Everyone did but they still felt uneasy.

What had just happened?

The Spanish Ambassador asked that question to his master after the banquet. Philip was in his chambers playing chess with the Prince of Eboli. “You’ve just witnessed the King of Spain’s answer to the English.” Ruy Gomez da Silva said, his pawn ate Philip’s.

“Sire, she is a commoner. A bastard with nothing to bring to the table except disgrace. And she is a widow.”

“So, the King of Spain doesn’t discriminate and if Jesus forgave a prostitute, why should he not forgive a woman for marrying the wrong man?”

“This is not right. You swore before God that you would marry the King of England’s daughter. It was what will end the war between our countries.”

“You mean our countries. You are no Spaniard, Chapuys. You got to this post because the King of Spain trusted your father and that other factor.” Ruy said with a grin. Philip didn’t grin back, he kept his deeper emotions to himself.

Christoph Chapuys glared at him. “How dare you bring that up?”

“How dare I? How dare you question the King of Spain, your master’s choices.”

“I have every right to do so because it is in everyone’s best interests that he marries the King of England’s daughter and get a child from her so we free of ourselves of a future war that will destroy both nations and leave others bankrupt.”

Before Ruy could open his mouth, Philip spoke. “You are a good man Christoph. But do you think that England will ever stop plotting behind our back any more than we will ever stop trying to find ways to remove that heretic from the throne?”

“Your Majesty, if you and Princess Victoria have a child, you can do what he attempted to do in his wife’s name and claim the throne in your wife’s except you will have the army and the men to make it happen.”

“You have served me well. In that same capacity, I want you to act as my mediator when I break the news to the King that I will not be marrying his daughter.”

“Sire!”

Philip held his hand up. “I expect no less of you. I shall see you on the morrow, good night to you Christoph.”

Christoph left the room in anger.

“One more second and he would have yelled like a woman.”

“You are too judgmental on him. He is only trying to live up to his father’s memory.” Philip told his friend.

“Don’t all men with great fathers?” Ruy said.

Philip said nothing to that.  
“Still, he has a point. The King will not take it too kindly. It’s a shame, my offer will remain the same except for whom I crown my queen.”

“With the Princess Victoria you will be more successful claiming England for your offspring. Elizabeth is beautiful but besides that, what can the love child of Mary Tudor and Eustace Chapuys bring you?”

“More than I have asked.” Philip said cryptically. The King of England gave his people a narrative -a narrative which they believed because there was no other one to contend it. If enough people pointed out the obvious and they had a strong backer to protect them, then Henry’s narrative would be destroyed.

“I am a King. And I am a father who wish the best for my daughters after losing their mother.” He didn’t need to remind Ruy about the way Lizzie was around children, especially her nieces and nephew. His daughters weren’t children anymore, but they yearned for female company and knowing Lizzie, she will be all too eager to provide them with it.

“You are playing a dangerous game but he who gambles the most, wins the most. May the odds stay in your favor, my friend.”

“Thank you.” Philip said. After Ruy left, Philip went to Lizzie’s bedchamber. Muriel was there to greet him. Lizzie quickly dismissed her and after the door closed, she ran up to Philip and kissed him.

If this was how he was going to be welcomed every night, he couldn’t wait to make her his wife. The two didn’t wait to consummate their union. In their eyes they were man and wife. With one of his servants in the Vatican, securing a papal dispensation for him, it wouldn’t be long before the two said their vows in the church.

* * *

**Vicky (I)**

Vicky didn’t sleep well that night. She could deal with Catherine bemoaning her poor performance, humiliation was different. Her aunt Lizzie was someone she loved and trusted. How could she do this to her?

 _You are just a silly, silly girl._ Tears never came. Her father said that she had to be tough as a rock. He didn’t like people who cried, even William. When William cried, her father told him to stop. One look from Henry IX was all the Prince of Wales needed to stop his temper tantrums.

This was different though. Her aunt backstabbed her. She locked herself in her room and didn’t let anyone come, including her best friend, Lettice. Her father knocked but she told him she didn’t want to talk. She could hear him give a long sigh.

She was being an ungrateful daughter. All he wanted to do was comfort her and here she was, behaving like she was still three-years-old. But she could not help it! She was raised to be a future Queen. Before Catherine came, when everyone was pressuring her father to marry so he could sire a son and bring Mary, Queen of Scots down once and for all, he told them that if God wanted him to have a son, he would have given him one already. _“Victoria is all I need. She will make a fine Queen and a fine mother to the realm.”_ He told them then he hugged her. It was a rare show of affection he showed her in front of his courtiers and foreign ambassadors that didn’t sit well with Cecil and his spy-master Walsingham.

But he lied too. They hated Catherine but they loved William. Her half-brother was held out for the people outside of Westminster Palace to see. They cried out his name and the news of his health and looks spread like wildfire through their little island. It was said that Mary Stuart nearly ripped out Elizabeth Tudor’s hair when Henry IX sent his aunt to tell the Queen of Scots the glorious news of the prince’s arrival.

Victoria was happy when England was happy. Her whole purpose was to please the people. Without this alliance, Catherine would blame her. She would be seen as a disappointment, and seen as useless by her father and his men.

She buried her head in the pillow and cried silently. Damn her if she cried, damn her if she didn’t. Wasn’t she a woman like any other, deserving of some respect and happiness? Wasn’t she allowed to have feelings too?

Times like these, she wished she wasn’t born a Princess. That she was a farmer’s daughter or a milkmaid. Poor as they were, they could choose whom they married.

* * *

**Lizzie (III)**

When Lizzie woke up, instead of finding Philip’s face or being lightly shaken by Muriel to tell her to get dressed before the other maids came, in addition to telling her that Philip had gone to his room, she found herself face to face with her brother, Cecil and her auntie Bess.

“Where -what are you doing here?”

“Where, what … Do you have any idea how you sound?” Henry IX said then smiled as her eyes searched for Philip.

Philip told her he wasn’t a heavy sleeper and he trained himself to wake up earlier than most. Henry’s voice brought her attention back to Henry. “I am afraid your dear Philip is too busy being told by my ministers that I have had a change of heart and want to modify the betrothal arrangement.”

Lizzie pushed the covers closer to her body. It didn’t dawn on her until Henry cruelly smiled at her, his eyes showing nothing but disgust, that she was naked.

“You thought you could really do what exactly? Marry the king of Spain and be his queen and live happily ever after? If that is so, I really feel pity for you.” He said and then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “A man like him would never fall for a disgusting whore like you. You are his toy and like all the women he’s bedded, just another fancy.”

His words made Lizzie angry. As he told Cecil to arrange for her to travel to the outskirts of London and told their auntie to make sure she didn’t leave the room until she was ready to board the carriage, Lizzie shouted: “And what if he did? At least he made me happy and that is more than you have ever brought me. You promised that you would look out for me. That you would protect me. What happened to you Harry? You used to play with me and protect me from the Duke. What made you so hateful?”

“What happened my dear is that I grew up and you didn’t. You didn’t just nearly cost England an ally, but my daughter her happiness. Can you imagine what I, as a father, felt to see my precious jewel so humiliated?”

“I never intended to hurt her. I love Victoria, you know that but it just happened.”

“It just happened. It just happened.” He mocked. “I suppose working your spells on the King of Spain just happened too. Next time, turn them unto someone of lower birth. Those spells don’t work against anointed Kings.”

“You monster! How dare you accuse me of being a witch?” Lizzie said and got out of her bed, still grabbing the sheets with one hand and slapped him across the face.

Henry was unfazed by it. He touched his cheek and laughed at her. “You hit as good as you fuck. Which is pathetic to say the least.”

Lizzie glared at him. That dog of his Walsingham had probably sent his men to spy on her. Had he paid Muriel? Or had Muriel been his spy all along? The thought of that woman being his spy, made her angrier. If she laid eyes on her again, she would punish her until she begged her to stop.

“I am not a witch and you have no right to insinuate that I would use cheap tricks to lure Philip into my bed. He came willingly and if you also must know, I did fuck him good and we both enjoyed it and nothing you do will ever make me forget it.”

“Good because the next man you marry will soon find out what a whore you are and in return keep you locked up in his castle so you never see another man again.”

Henry’s words surprised Lizzie. “Marry?”

“Congratulations sister. You pleaded with me not long ago to marry you to the Queen of Scots’ bastard brother. In fact, he also pleaded with me after he turned his back on her but I said now. Since he is dead, that only leaves the other candidate you had in mind which is the Earl of Hertford. The death of his wife, lady Katherine Grey has been terrible and nothing more would please him than to be your husband.”

“Henry, no! You can’t do this!”

“I can and I will! Good day to you sister. I hope that you treat Lord Hertford with respect because mark my words, he is no mood for another woman’s games and her opinions and if you run your mouth, he will put you in your place as Lord Hudson did with you. Aunt, see that she has a bath and is presentable for when she leaves.”

“Yes, dear nephew.” Bess Tudor-Dudley said. After the men left, she walked up to her niece and slapped her. Lizzie dropped on her bed and touched her cheek, barely able to open her mouth without being taken over by pain.

“You idiot, pathetic child! You heard the King! You nearly cost England its alliance. Ah, what the Queen Regent will be saying if Philip doesn’t marry Victoria. ‘See? Didn’t I tell you the Tudors are all mad and can’t control their own house? How can they ever govern a kingdom?’”

“Auntie …” Lizzie started, pausing briefly. She was bleeding. She could taste the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. The several rings in her auntie’s hand must have scratched part of her face. “… I never meant to cause harm. I did it because he loves me.”

“Ha! Love! What do you know about love?” Bess said. She relaxed her shoulders and said, still angry at her niece, “Once upon a time there was a woman who fell in love with a King…”

“Auntie, don’t.”

“He was tall, proud and handsome with the bluest eyes.”

“Stop!”

“She was never taken seriously and had high hopes that he would be her prince charming to take her away from her boring life-“

“Auntie, please!”

“But after she married him and gave him one daughter, he got bored with her and began to see other women.”

Lizzie looked at her auntie.

“I do not need to tell you the rest. My father killed my mother because she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Before she was executed she begged everyone to pray for her and her husband, the man who had sentenced her to death and abandoned her for that pale face lady-in-waiting of hers, Jane Seymour. I was not yet three, but I was old enough to know that something bad had happened. Your mother didn’t want to tell me the truth so she told me the cut-clean version of it. When I was seven and she married the Duke, she had the courage to tell me everything. I asked her if it was possible to have a happy marriage and she said yes. Her husband was there and the two of them spoke of how much they loved each other.” Bess smiled sadly. “Nobody was brave enough to say Mary was stupid because that would mean that she didn’t know what she was getting into when she got into bed with your father but I knew the truth. You and Henry do too.”

Lizzie decided to interrupted her auntie, not willing to take up any more abuse from her. If she was going to talk ill of her, then she should at least know that her precious Henry was a bastard as much as she was. “Henry is not my half-brother. His father is Eustace Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador, Christoph Chapuys’ father.”

“I know.” Lizzie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you think I was so stupid as to lend my support to him without knowing where he came from? You love to brag about how smart you are but truth is, you are not as smart as you think are. Your mother died because she was selfish and chose feelings over doing what was expected of her. Sometimes I wish my sister would have lived long enough so she would have heard how your father moved on and got another whore pregnant with his brats.”

Lizzie abstained herself from yelling at her auntie this time, and tell her that he hadn’t abandoned her mother and stayed loyal to her and her so called half-siblings were in reality (like Henry) her full siblings.

The maids came and prepared a bath for her. Bess was there. Making crude jokes how she could still smell the sweat of the man she was with last night. The maids joined her auntie Bess, laughing.

She was dressed in modest clothing. Black and white. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, then covered with an old fashioned French headdress with a long thick black veil.

When she got to the two story cottage, she wondered if Philip had watched her go. What was his reaction? She was put under lock and key and not allowed to write. There was no pen or paper except books. Pointy objects that she could use to write were removed, including small crosses. Henry’s late father-in-law, Thomas Seymour was said to have used a chicken’s bone and one of the fabrics from his hose to write a letter he planned to smuggle to her auntie, hoping he’d convince her to speak to Edward VI on her behalf.  
_Fools._ She wasn’t that ingenuous. All she had were her looks and her words, which wouldn’t do much for her, now that she was confined to this place like a nun.

* * *

**Philip, King of Spain (I)**

Philip waited for Henry IX to arrive to his chambers but he never did, instead he received one of his servants for a second time. Lizzie’s eldest son, Harry Carey, Earl of Hudson who presented him with a letter.

“Your uncle was too busy to come, I gather after your cousin told him of my decision to marry your lady mother.”

“My uncle has been quite free, actually. He ordered me to wait until Your Majesty finishes reading the letter so I can inform him of your decision.”

A waste of time, in Philip’s opinion but if that’s the game Henry IX wanted to play, Philip would play along. As long as he agreed to change Princess Victoria’s name with Lizzie, he would put up with these Tudors and their nonsense.

Philip’s hand started to shake. His cheeks turned shades of purple and red. He looked at the smirking boy in anger. “Your uncle wrote this?”

“Aye, he did, Your Majesty. Would you like to give me your response now so I can inform my master?”

Philip answered him by pushing him aside, and going straight to Henry himself. Occupied or not, he was going to get an answer from the king of England, or Henry IX would rue the day he tried to stop him from achieving his goal.

He didn’t pay any attention to the boy’s cries, ordering him to stop. He was a headstrong fool. And a man like him, would not waste his time lecturing imbeciles.


End file.
